Musing

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: 5C/40F, calm, clear, our path to the soccer fields punctuated by bursts of speed and sound; cars, birds, rabbit filled yards – Gusta taunts the rabbits too which is perverse because she’ll never catch one even if she isn’t leashed – frustration she’ll learn to live with but never enjoy – but she’ll never stop trying

here we are, me + those others who are, at the same place, or maybe many different places with a common experience; this place, this point in time, this place on the roadmap of existence, where crossroads navigate like a crossword puzzle when cross words show us forks in the road, paths diverging in the yellow wood shed light on this spot, this malaise, this rage point

aging, a spectacular period for enlightenment, satisfaction, accomplishment or, we boom-agers reconciling misspent youth and the young adult life, the fast life, the good life – that passed us by, that slipped through our fingers, that evaporated, that has been used up, empty, exhausted

I need to stick up for me; you for you, the other guy for the other guy – we can each be supportive and often collectively strong speaking with a united voice – but most of the time we do our best advocacy by speaking clearly, speak strongly to the right party at the right time, making the obscure point clear – and never stop trying

if aging is a process of viewing the scenery, at what point have we seen enough, at what point do we change the scenery, change our view, start saying words like STOP, WHOA or hey, whadyamean I have to do it your way?

most organizations, society, government – their dictates - not so much protection of status quo, as ease with which ‘this is the way we do it’ keeps them comfortably not examining how they do it unless there is an articulate and forceful complaint from someone they are willing to listen to – otherwise, ‘that’s our process, policy, procedure . . etc.’ is all we get; if we sit silent, it is what we deserve, what we get and nothing will change

I got angry yesterday; angry with someone about something, some indignity of how that company made up of those people do something that impacts me; they are good people, nice people, people I like, company I respect – but like most companies they do things their way without a lot of regard for anyone who is not powerful, with regard for themselves, with regard for their bottom line; but they pay slowly and arduously – they don’t lie, they don’t cheat; they are fair, fair minded, have great product and I like to do business with them – but, like most large organizations they see things from only their side, their way, their perspective

was it rude of me? . . without doubt; will it hurt me? . . maybe, maybe I’ll lose a relationship, maybe I’ll muddy the water for future dealings – I doubt it

will it change anything?

that’s the better question; will my complaint, my speaking up, speaking out – will it change the world, that company, that person I complained to, will it change them or how they deal with me or anyone else? will it change me?

my rant/vent did two things - I vented some frustration to someone who might listen, I recognized how little affect that action may have for anyone else but also how important it was for me; my action/inaction ratio is something only I am accountable for; I’m not talking about road-rage antics applied to life, but taking it upon myself (our ourselves) to take a step, take a stand, do something and never stop trying

why that issue, why that company, why yesterday, why indeed?

as I questioned the nurse at the cardiac clinic (another great check-up for my dad) about the tenuous relationship between heart-kidneys-meds-everything else for my dad’s frail old body I was watching him, watching his body language – and saw myself (Dickens would love my ‘future vision’), my future of being old and vulnerable, without control over ‘the system’, how things are done - unable to articulate concerns that ought to be raised, needing someone to stick up for me, someone to advocate for me – knowing full well that my right to expect a system or a family member or a caregiver is not a right any of us have, or an expectation any of us should expect to count on; for our generation, more than ever before simply because of numbers, we need to stick up for ourselves

that rant with a landlord over some process issues of how/when I get paid on a transaction was real and serious, but I recognize it was largely symbolic in terms of recognizing each time I let something go by it is like a baseball player letting one more pitch come across the plate without swinging; the chance of hitting a pitch he doesn’t swing at is zero so he will never stop trying

Mark Kolke
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